Addicting Like Coffee
by allieJkim
Summary: I have two vices - okay, probably more than two, but that's not the point - coffee and Sirius Black. I'm still deciding which is more addicting. Guess I'll have to keep coming back for more.
1. I Really Wish I Had Spilt Coffee On Him

Sirius,

I still imagine you writing our story.

I've tried. I've sat in front of my typewriter for hours, trying to think of how to begin. Without you around, there isn't much to do. Nothing seems good enough. That's the way I look at our story. Nothing is good enough. You told me that all a good story needed to start was a name.

But our love isn't – wasn't – that simple. It deserves more than a name. It deserves a coherent writer.

I never was the best writer. I always envied that of you. You had this way of saying the least amount of words that affected me the most.

I tried to cover it up by using particularly structured sentences filled with N.E.W.T approved words and profound meaning. You told me no one wanted to hear that. You said it was the words strung together with such beautiful simplicity and unsweetened truth that were truly magical.

I didn't realize you were telling me all I needed to say was "I love you."

Which I do. Love you. Is that simple enough for you?

And even now, that you know, you could find me, sitting in front of my typewriter, trying to write that perfect sentence. Because then, I'll get you to come back to me. I'll get you to love me again. I'll get you to write our story.

Logan

* * *

"Logan." I jumped. I wasn't used to people saying my name. I wasn't used to people _knowing_ my name.

"Um, excuse me; I think that's my drink." I said to the barista who had called my name. I noticed she was pretty with flaming red hair. I suddenly felt ashamed of my natural ginger locks.

Her pretty face scrunched up – making her once delicate nose look like it belonged on a pig – and she flipped her hair, and even though the vibrant red shimmered under the light, she seemed a lot less attractive.

"You're name can't be Logan. You're a girl!" She said. Like she hasn't seen weirder things working at a coffee shop at a train station. "Did you really think I was stupid enough to fall for that?"

I was about to tell her that thinking would make her boobs smaller but I was distracted by a pair of lips give me a swift kiss on the cheek.

"Kat!" It was a guy's voice. Which was worse, for me.

"I thought your name was Logan?" Busty barista said, looking at me smugly. Never trust a girl with too much cleavage.

"No, that's my name." The guy quickly interrupted, not that I would have defended myself. No need to draw more attention to myself. "Kat here was ordering for me. Great girlfriend, she is and all." I raised my eyebrows, ready to question him. I did not want this Kat girl finding her boyfriend all over me, because with my luck, she would have claws.

"Girlfriend?" To my surprise, it was the barista who said it.

"Yeah. Sorry I'm late, Kitten –" What kind of a nickname was –

"Kitten?" Again, the barista.

"Yeah. It's what I call her. Because she's sweet like a kitten, until we hit the bedroom – then she's a tiger!" Did he really just say–? "Which reminds me, we _really_need to be getting home." Was he implying - did we even look old enough to be anywhere near closely facilitated housing? Why wasn't I saying any of this out loud? "So do you think you could –" He didn't finish as he grabbed the coffee with one hand, and slung his other arm around my shoulders, tugging me out the glass door of the coffee shop.

"You should probably let go of my arm now." I said.

"Why would I do that?" He asked, smirking. Well, wasn't he just full of surprises.

"Your girlfriend?" Still not letting go of my arm…. "Kat?" Still smirking….

"I didn't actually think you were Kat, I don't even know a Kat – I don't even have a girlfriend," How was _that_ possible? "I was just –"

Well, don't I feel stupid. "What? Scamming girls for attention? Look, I'm sorry if that's the only way you can kiss a girl, but –" I rambled. I probably should have been nicer to him. He still had my coffee.

I never was very good with people.

"I didn't kiss you." He said.

"Then_what_exactly did you press against my cheek?"

"That? That was _not_a kiss."

"Yes, it was! The definition of a kiss is to touch or caress with one's lips as an expression of affection, greeting, respect, or amorousness."

"Amorousness is just a fancy way of saying love or passion."

"So?" Yeah. That's all I said. What? I was in shock he actually knew what the word meant!

"I didn't kiss you out of love or passion!" He said, like I didn't know that already.

"But you still kissed me!" Why was I so set on proving this to him? Why was I still talking to him? Why didn't I just say thanks, take my coffee and _go_?

Why did I care?

"No, I didn't! You obviously have very little experience when it comes to kissing," Was it that obvious? "So unless you want a demonstration, why don't you just trust the master?"

"Okay,_master_," He smirked _again_. "What's your definition of a kiss? A way to lure a girl into your bed?"

"More like a way to connect with a girl, to become one with her." Okay. Wasn't expecting _that_.

"It's scientifically impossible for two people to occupy the same space at once." I said, knowing it was a weak defense, me being a witch and all.

"That won't keep people from trying. Because if they do it right, they get close."

"To what? Defying the laws of physics?"

"Yes. Magic." He said. He was testing me. He had figured out I was a witch a long time ago.

I had lost an argument about love. To a boy. "Well, I still didn't need your help." I replied, knowing I was being unreasonable. I knew guys like him. Unbearably good looking, but unbearable, just the same.

"Oh, really? And how exactly were you planning on convincing that idiot that was your drink before I came along?" He crossed his arms, leaning against a brick wall of the coffee shop, pulling me with him. I glowered.

"I don't know. Maybe show her the receipt? Or my driver's license. I could think of a number of things, really." I said sarcastically.

"What's a driver's license?"

"It's a muggle invention that allows them to drive."

He stilled looked confused. It was adorable. "Wow. I didn't think you were so smart." He told me, handing me the coffee like it was a sort of reward. Merlin knows I deserved one for bearing his presence for so long. How long had we been talking? It couldn't have been that long; conversation never flowed very easily for me.

"And I didn't think you were capable of complimenting anyone besides yourself." The respect was barely visible in his eyes, but I caught it. I didn't want to give him a reason to remember me. "And I'm not, really. Just muggle-born." I said, turning to walk away but he grabbed me and pulled me back.

"Sorry. She's still watching." He said. I forgot who he was talking about. I had thought we were alone, but as I was thrust back into the bustling coffee shop outside the train station, I wondered how I could have zoned out all those people. I had even been bumped into a few times, how else would I have wound up so close to this guy?

"Oh." I paused, trying to think of something to say. "You were… convincing back there." I didn't mean to compliment him.

"Anything to kiss a pretty girl." He said, smiling. I frowned. I was disappointed. I wanted him to say something arrogant and guy-like so I would have an excuse not to like him. I turned to leave again, but I was yanked back into his chest. I _really_ wished I had spilt some coffee on him. "I can't let you go."

Why couldn't I get away from this guy? "Why? She stopped looking at us."

"I know your name, but you don't know mine. It wouldn't be chivalrous."

"Chivalry is dead." I resisted.

"If that were true I wouldn't have saved you from that _witch_. Unless you want to call me Prince Charming, it's Sirius."

I convinced myself the lack of introduction was why we – kind of – got along. I got so uncomfortable introducing myself. My name seduced people into giving me a second look and remembering me. It got me more attention than I deserved.

"What kind of a name is 'Sirius'?"

"It's Greek."

"Well, Jason is a Greek name too, and it's not weird. It was used 55,891 times in the US last year, topping the popularity charts at number three."

"This coming from a girl named Logan."

"At least Logan is a common name!"

"Yeah, a common boy's name."


	2. I Could Use That Coffee Now

"I need your help." I never thought I would be the one to make contact.

I had left Sirius once we boarded the train. I suppose it would have made more sense to lose him somewhere between Platforms 9 and 10, but I figured this way sent a message. There was no excuse, therefore no reason to ever talk to me again.

"I knew you'd take me up on my kissing demonstration offer. Took you a little longer than I would have liked." A _little_ longer? We hadn't talked in almost a month. And _I_ wanted to keep that going, but he had to go and surgically attach his eyes to me whenever we had lunch or during the few classes we shared (I always sat in the front and him in the back). This was astronomically frustrating because he was distracting me from my schoolwork and still managing to make grades that rivaled my own – a Ravenclaw!

At first, it didn't bother me. I figured once he had seen enough he would stop. He must have seen the way I isolated myself, how I had no friends, and drowned myself with my studies, but now had to avoid using the library so I wouldn't risk social interaction.

I just wished he would stop looking at me. I was _tired_. This game he was playing – and winning – was exhausting.

I had avoided him at dinner, curled up in my bed, partly just so I could make it up later. I usually left it messy, but I had been spending more time than usual in my dorm and needed to create trivial tasks.

It had been long since I settled into my dorm. Some of the girls were still milling about, several weeks into the school year, trying to find the perfect place for their collages of friends and family or scavenging for more room to store their endless supply of clothes. I didn't understand why they packed so many – we wore uniforms for five out of the seven days. Unlike most girls, my trunk did not require a bottomless spell, despite the room my typewriter took up. I packed very minimally, not much beyond the required uniform. I only had one dress; grey, a pair of jeans; grey, and a handful of "fancier" shirts in shades of ivory or black that intentionally washed out my already pallid complexion. The only spot of color I had was a pea-green cardigan that I only wore around Christmas, so it wouldn't be mistaken for Slytherin pride.

"I missed you at dinner." He continued. 'Missed' as in he wanted to see me or he had casually glanced over at the Ravenclaw table and couldn't find me? Merlin, I'm such a girl. "Where were you?"

"I grabbed a roll and went to my room. Homework and all."

"Are you hungry? I could take you to the kitchens and –" _Aw__ – Logan, stop it!_

"No! Uh, thanks."

"Are you sure? I could get you some coffee –"

"Actually I was hoping you'd take me somewhere else."

"Somewhere private?" He said. I would have slapped him if that didn't mean touching him.

"Kind of. I mean – do you know where the thestrals are kept?"

"It would help if I knew what a thestral was."

"It's the name for the creatures that pull the carriages."

His eyes widened. I suppose he wasn't used to girls asking to be taken somewhere private that wasn't a bedroom. "You can see them too?" He asked.

"Uh, no. That's why I need you." I said that wrong.

"If you can't see them, how do you know they exist?"

"I read about them." I said.

"Ravenclaw?"

"Yeah." It wasn't like he didn't already know.

"Aren't you going to guess what I am?" I noticed he was wearing his pajamas, and Merlin, it wasn't fair. The boy could make _flannel_ look sexy.

"I don't need to. You like to act chivalrous, but you really just do it for the attention. You love to break the rules. A trouble-maker, but a brave one. Smart too. I have a feeling you wouldn't get caught for half the things you do if you didn't enjoy the glory so much. Gryffindor."

"You're that observant?"

"You're that notorious." I corrected.

"So you're asking me to sneak you outside the school after hours to a forbidden place just so you can see some dangerous animals? Got to tell you Logan, I never figured you to be one to break the rules."

"And I never figured you to be one to think about me. Look, I'm not asking you to protect against the big bad 'monsters' if you're scared. Just take me to them."

"Why do you care anyway?"

_I know what it's like to be alone._ "They just fascinate me, that's all."

He held out his hand. I didn't take it. "Come on." I looked around, where could he possibly be talking about?

"What – in there? The forest? The _forbidden _forest?" I said.

"Yeah. You're not scared are you?"

"Yes! Very much so!"

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." _That's_ comforting.

"And I suppose you know your way around the forest _so_ well." I said. What is_ with_ him and tugging me by the shoulders? Control freak, much?

"You should be nicer to me. I mean, I'm practically risking my life so you can chat with some animals."

"Risking your life? I thought you knew you're way around the forest?" I said.

"Look, if I'm going to do this for you – put my life in danger – I will expect something in return."

"Uh, okay. What?"

"I want you to be nice to me. And I want you to talk to me. If you see me in the hallways, say hello. No more avoiding me. I'm not stupid, Logan. I know you've been avoiding me." Yeah, well, you've been stalking me!

"That would implicate I care." I said coolly.

"We're here." He said. I shifted my gaze from him for the first time and found myself surrounded by trees. When had we entered the forest? When had gone off the path? How could I have missed all the trees?

"What do they look like?" I asked.

"You don't know?"

"How could I?" How could he? Who had he seen that died?

"I don't think you want to know." Maybe I don't.

"Tell me." I said stubbornly.

"They look sad." It was all he needed. It suddenly didn't matter what color they were or how big they were. All I could see was the emotion in their eyes and the way they hunched their shoulders and hung their body.

He should be a writer.

"Will you take me to one?" I asked.

"No." So he took me all the way out here for the scenery? Oh my God – what if he deserted me in the forest? "You have to wait for them to come up to you. And unless you have an extra roll with you –"

"We wait." I finished for him. _Great_. More time with Sirius.

"Not necessarily." He said, taking out a knife and pricking his finger with it.

"Oh my God! What did you do that for?" And what else did he intend on doing with that knife?

"Thestrals are attracted to the smell of blood."

"Well, you should have let me do it. I'm the one who wanted to see them! Wait, how did you know –"

"See? You care."

"You are unbelievable!"

"In every sense of the word. And it's about time you realized it." He smirked and put his hand over mine. I didn't realize how cold I had been until he did that.

"I'm not sure if this is –" I started to protest.

"I thought this is what you wanted." I do want this, so much. "Do you not want to see the thestrals anymore?"

"What? Oh, uh, yeah. Uh, I do."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

The forest didn't scare me. The thestrals didn't scare me. What scared me? I didn't hesitate to answer.

* * *

"How did you know I would show you?" He asked me.

"I didn't." He looked rather disappointed. _Gryffindors_.

"Why didn't you just ask me to take you to them after the train ride? You knew they pulled the carriages." _I was avoiding you._

"Did I?"

"You must have. You haven't been down to the library once this year and you said you read about them." Did he really listen to every word I said?

"I didn't think you'd want your friends to know that you had seen – that you could see them."

"How did you know I could?"

"You look at them the same way you look at me. And nobody else can see me." For a moment, all I could see was his eyes. Everything faded to black. I knew it was well past midnight, and maybe in my head that was the reason. But nothing else seemed to matter when I was with him, everything else disappeared. I stood there; my head drooping slightly on his shoulder, but my eyes were raised to meet his. I could stay here, just a little longer. Hogwarts could wait. "I could use that coffee now."


	3. I Like Black, uh, Coffee

"Your hands are freezing!" Sirius said to me, like it was so strange. He was the one who wanted to stay outside. In the cold. Stupid naturally hot people.

_All the better to keep you from holding my hand, my dear_. "I'm always cold."

"I can think of a few ways to warm you up." Was he insinuating something? Wasn't he always insinuating something? "Have some coffee." Oh. 'Kay.

I accepted the thermos gratefully but hesitated before I brought it to my lips. He had taken a drink from it yet? If he had, did that mean our lips would technically touch?

I took a gulp but immediately spat it out. So close to his jeans…. "This is not coffee! It tastes like you poured the whole bottle of artificial flavor in here."

"But it's the good kind!" Sirius defended. "The peppermint mocha that only comes out during Christmas!" Oh, that makes it _so_ much better.

"It's October." I pointed out.

"I know people." _Girls, _he knew_ girls._ "Besides this is the only way coffee is good! I'm more of a tea man."

What kind of a man drinks tea? "If you don't like coffee what were you doing at a coffee shop? The hot babes?" I asked sarcastically. If coffee shops were a notorious hot spot for hormonal teenagers I wouldn't spend so much time there.

"Maybe. I found you there." Was comparing me to the blood suckers he always had trailing after him considered a compliment?

"Don't call me a hot babe."

"Why?" He asked, almost not believing my request. Who wouldn't want to be honored by the great Sirius Black, god of self-worship, himself?

_Because it would be lying. _"It's offensive to women. And I'm not exactly your type." Did he have a type? Did he even have requirements? Even I had made a list of preferences, but the highest score a boy had ever gotten was a 4. It was practically impossible for guys to get more than a 3 because my list consisted of half personality and half physical traits. I never let myself get close enough to find out if they had a great eye color or nice teeth, let alone their personality.

"So what is my type?" What, am I supposed to be an expert on him now? _I assume a bit like your taste in coffee. Horrible. Pretty, falsely sweet, reincarnate of the devil._

"I don't know. Not a girl you'd find at a coffee shop." I see what he's trying to do! He wants me to admit that I had been watching him. Maybe he should have been in Slytherin.

"Are you saying that I can't date a smart girl?"

"I'm not saying you can't, you just _won't_. You want to have fun."

"Well, what kind do you like?"

"I like black."

"I like you too."

"What – oh. I meant _coffee_. I like black _coffee_."

"So… you don't like me?" Not particularly.

"Sure I do."

"Rate me." He ordered – more like, barked.

I played around with my fingers, occasionally tucking an added finger into my fist. "5. Wait, smile." He quirked his head to the side and I realized for the first time I had never seen him smile. _I'm sorry. Should I have said smirk?_

"You look for a nice smile?" He made a joke out of his reluctance.

"No. Nice teeth." I corrected. I reluctantly added another point when he finally smiled. "You have very well-aligned teeth." I told him, vacantly wondering why he didn't smile more often. He seemed like such a happy person. What did he have to be angst-y about? He had great friends, a new girlfriend every week and the majority of the school would throw themselves on the wet ground to prevent his feet from getting muddy. He walked all over _everybody_; he was disrespectful to the teachers, cruel to everyone from the Slytherins to the Hufflepuffs and they still loved him, and he would just stand there, acting all modest and chivalrous, like he didn't really want the attention everyone offered.

Not that I've been any different. I didn't exactly want him to notice me, but I hadn't pushed him away. I gave him just as much attention as everyone else, maybe it was negative attention, but it still got him off, didn't it?

He was the kind of guy my mother would date – and hell, why not? He's 18. It's legal. "6." I told him, almost spitting out the score.

His smile disappeared. Good. Maybe he didn't deserve to smile. "Please tell me that was out of 5."

"How does that make sense?" I looked at him like he was an idiot. Which he is.

"I've gotten 11's before. A couple 12's too. Even a 100 once."

"And that proves what? You only date girls who can't count?" I said, feeling especially judgmental at the moment.

"It's not fair! I've never gotten below an eight." Of course he hadn't.

"Well, it was based on my preferences – half personality and half physical. I don't know you that well, so it would be impossible for you to score all ten points."

"Oh I see. This was all a ploy to get me to spend more time with you."

"Nice try." The no was left unsaid.

"What are your preferences?" Has he ever heard the term "let it go"? What am I thinking – he's never heard the word no!

"Well, you got all the points in physical traits." I admitted.

"Does that mean you only like me for my body?" _What else would I like you for? Your sparkling personality?_

"Actually, one of my things is a little on the thin side. Tall. Dark hair."

"Long or short?"

"Doesn't matter, as long as it doesn't cover up his eyes. I've got a thing for eyes." Sirius quickly shook his hair from his eyes.

"So far your type is tall, dark and handsome." He simplified. It would have given most people the impression he wasn't interested, but I was more observant than most people. He had leaned in subtlety during our conversation, much closer than necessary, I noted.

"I didn't say handsome."

"Your dream guy isn't attractive?"

"I don't picture him that way. Nothing is too distinct about him. I don't have a set eye color and height and every facet of his personality in mind. I like to be surprised. But personally, I like average guys better."

"Why?"

_Because I don't deserve anyone better. _"They tend to be more real. They can't depend on their looks, so they're not superficial or conceited," Hint, hint. "They're more laid back."

"And you don't think I'm laid back?"

"That was your one personality point. You're obviously easy-going –"

"How do you know?"

"The way you sit in your chair." He raised his eyebrows and I realized my mistake. He wasn't sitting in a chair right now, I had practically confessed to even casually taking notice of him. But he wouldn't look at it like that. Everyone knows how big his ego is. "I can get really stressed, so I –" Want? Need? "I would like to have a guy who was light-hearted and funny and can calm me down."

"So, you like a submissive guy."

"Not particularly. That's another point. I don't want a controlling guy, just controlled. It's not like I want to be fighting all the time, but I like a guy who isn't afraid to disagree with me on something and make a reasonable argument. He has to be smart. A gentleman, kind of old-fashioned. Opening doors, pulling out chairs –"

"Paying." He butt in. Has he ever heard of waiting his turn? Did he even go to kindergarten? _He probably skipped._

"At least for the first date, but my idea of the perfect first date wouldn't be that expensive. I don't want dinner and a movie, that's what – 50 bucks – and you don't even talk for half the date. I want someone more creative."

"And you don't think I'm creative? Have you seen the pranks I pull?" Those things aren't creative, they're destructive, Hitler.

I hated knowing Sirius was the only guy who had ever gotten close to a perfect score. I knew he was creative, smart, funny, easy going – but not a pushover. I was suddenly very grateful he was not a gentleman. I couldn't sleep at night knowing he was a 10.

"I can't believe you didn't ask me to rate you." He told me.

"I don't exactly want to be classified as a number." I was sounding particularly feminist today, but I knew I was really just afraid. I wouldn't score very high. Oh well. He's not my type anyway.

"Name three things you like about your appearance."

That was hard. I considered myself pretty, but only by process of elimination. I don't have any pronounced features that could categorize me as cute, hot, or beautiful. I always considered the pretty ones to be the plain ones.

My nose was a little too straight, my lips were a little too full, and my cheeks were a little too defined, hollowing out all the way to my pointed chin.

I could say I liked my hair, but that would only be half true. I liked the way the ends fell in slight curls around my shoulders, but the color often caught people's attention.

I could say I liked my height, but it really only made me stand out from the other girls.

It was the same with my eyes – an unclassified shade of grey and green, and my skin – imitating that of porcelain doll; flawless and fair.

"I can't."

"You can't think of three things?"

"Well, can you?" I snapped.

"I can think of more than three things." I remained quiet, but convinced myself it was out of defiance than being dumbfounded. "You don't want to hear them?"

"No." I said. "I don't care what you think."


End file.
